


Confession

by CoffeeQuill



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, M/M, The Mandalorian (TV) Spoilers, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:40:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28028676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeQuill/pseuds/CoffeeQuill
Summary: Din's voice trembled. There was a fear in it, a light note but there nonetheless, and Boba could only suspect that he somehow feared judgment even from a man who had a bare face now. “I… I had to. To get the kid. We needed the…”“They saw you.”----Din needs comfort after the decision that changes his entire world.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Boba Fett
Comments: 74
Kudos: 949





	Confession

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlueTeaParty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueTeaParty/gifts).



> Written for BlueTeaParty, and now posted on Ao3 at their request. I'm soft for Din/Boba and needed the fallout of Din's helmet removal.
> 
> Links:  
> My fic [discord](https://discord.gg/UwZuG6N)  
> My [Tumblr](https://coffeequill.tumblr.com/)  
> My [Twitter](https://twitter.com/coffee_quill)

There was something wrong.

Despite the success of their mission — success that they should have been thrilled with — he could see there was something wrong with Din. After leaving his message for Gideon, he sat in his seat and only stared out the window of  _ Slave I,  _ almost refusing to look at anyone. He gave short responses, not seeming irritated but… distanced.

Boba tried to think of what could have gone on inside the refinery for him to be like this. There had seemed no bad blood with Mayfeld — Din and Dune had elected to let him go free. Din’s injuries, the few he had, were more bruising from the terrible stormtrooper armor than any blaster shots. Boba hovered nearby at first, but Din had turned away almost with… shame.

Whatever it was, he wanted space, and Boba would give it.

It took time for everyone to settle down after the mission and while Fennec sat with him in the cockpit for a good amount of time, talking as they usually did — family, experience, any topic they were willing to bare themselves about — she eventually left to sleep. Soon after, he heard the tired murmur from Dune about going to bed as well, and further silence. Boba’s hands gripped the controls, too awake as he faced the streaks of hyperspace. While his bed extended out from the wall just a few feet away, he had no desire to sleep yet.

But if Din were awake, they could talk.

Before he could get up, he heard the sounds of someone climbing the ladder, and his hands relaxed as he wait.

Din didn’t speak. There were soft sounds as he slid into the co-pilot seat just behind Boba’s shoulder, out of sight as Boba kept his gaze straight. Silence continued again, no sounds but for the rumble of the ship’s mechanics, and Boba waited for Din to speak.

“I don’t know what to do,” he whispered.

Boba’s hands tightened and he shifted in his seat. “We’re going to get the child back,” he said. “We know where the cruiser is, now. It’s only a matter of time.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

Boba didn’t respond. He’d let Din offer the information as he wanted. Once again they were quiet until Din let out a soft sigh, there was a shift, and then a  _ hiss  _ before a seal broke.

He turned, then.

Din looked at him with a bare face. He was human, as Boba had suspected but not asked, with tan skin and tousled, short dark hair. Boba’s eyes roamed over his light facial hair and brown, soft eyes, looking at Boba with an expression of almost distress. He looked stiff and uncomfortable, swallowing hard as he looked back at him, and Boba turned his chair more fully to face him.

“The terminal needed to scan a face,” Din whispered. His voice trembled. There was a fear in it, a light note but there nonetheless, and Boba could only suspect that he somehow feared judgment even from a man who had a bare face now. “I… I had to. To get the kid. We needed the…”

“They saw you.”

Din’s breath was shaking as he drew it in and Boba’s chest tightened at the sound. He knew Din didn’t take the helmet off. He never had in the hours of space travel and now it was clear that there was something  _ more  _ behind it. Taking the helmet off meant something even if Boba wasn’t entirely sure what.

“It’s…”

Din’s hand trembled before curling at his thigh and Boba reached out to grab it, squeezing it in his own. Din stared at him, his eyes glassy, and he swallowed again before his eyes were cast down to the floor.

“Come here.”

The shift took a minute and a tug, but then Din was out of his seat. The seat was wide enough for Din to climb into Boba’s lap and while this wasn’t the first time he’d coaxed the younger man into doing it, there was similar hesitance now that his face was bare. Din’s cheeks were tinted with embarrassment and once he settled on top of him, he buried his face in Boba’s collar.

“Let me see you.”

Din swallowed, but he leaned back. He was hunched over as their eyes met and now the shame, the embarrassment, was clear. Boba reached a hand up, the other stroking Din’s thigh, and he cupped Din’s cheek. Din nearly flinched at the touch, but as Boba stroked a thumb over his skin, he began to relax.

“A pity, to hide  _ this  _ from the galaxy,” he murmured.

Din stared at him before a smile pulled at his lips, realizing the compliment.

“Why do you feel like you need to do something?”

Din swallowed, the smile fading. “They saw my face,” he said. “They… my soul. My tribe… believed Mandalorians couldn’t take off their helmets. Show our faces. If I was seen, I can’t put the helmet back on again. I’m done. I shouldn’t have… put it back on.”

“That’s not every Mandalorian.” Boba shook his head. “I haven’t heard of that before. Every one I knew before the Purge, before the Empire fell — they all took their helmets off.”

“I’ve met others now who take it off, and they…” Din’s voice paused again. He shifted with discomfort. “They said I was raised by a cult. Zealots. I…”

He leaned forward now and buried his face in Boba’s collar again, arms slipping tight around his waist, and Boba tugged him close in an embrace. Din trembled, taking deep, uneven breaths, and the growing panic seemed to radiate off him. Boba stroked his back, up and down, with a firm touch. After a few moments, he switched hands, and instead let his fingers dig into Din’s hair. The man let out a gasp. But as Boba stroked through it, letting his nails drag against his scalp, Din had a full-body shudder and pressed himself as close as he could physically manage.

“It’s difficult to go against how we were raised,” Boba murmured. “It’s frightening. But it was your choice.”

“I…” Din choked. “I don’t know if I made a  _ mistake.” _

“You did what you had to.” Boba dragged his nails down to the nape of Din’s neck, earning another full-body shudder, and the touch sensitivity was… astounding. “For your child. I would have  _ expected  _ you to.”

The word didn’t mean much, Boba was sure. Din was in the center of a belief that had shattered all around him, and the shards were digging in. It would take time, months at least, to feel recovered. Years, likely. But Boba could try to help move him along that healing, and he began to rub his back again.

“Our focus now is getting the child back,” Boba said. Din leaned back, looking down as he wiped at his eyes, breathless. He was the picture of vulnerability and it… hurt. Boba set his hands on Din’s waist. “We will. Taking your helmet off will be worth it.”

Din didn’t look convinced. He looked down at Boba’s repainted cuirass and brushed his thumb over the edge. Boba sighed and reached up to grip his cape, pulling him down, and their foreheads bumped together.

“You’re no lesser for it. Not in my eyes.”

Din looked into his eyes then, eyebrows raised in an almost disbelieving expression, and Boba couldn’t help a slight smile. He tugged Din lower and smoothed his hair back before pressing a kiss to his forehead. Din stared up at him through his lashes before he slumped against Boba’s chest, tucking his head beneath Boba’s chin to snuggle close. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Boba let out an amused breath and held him.

“Can you… again?”

“Hm?”

“Your fingers. Again.”

Boba furrowed his brows, but realization hit and he lifted his hand, gentle in carding his fingers through Din’s hair. Din made a soft groan in his throat and snuggled closer, relaxing in Boba’s arms.

“Everything’s okay,” Boba murmured. Din let out a soft breath. “You’re okay. I promise.”

Soon, Din’s breathing evened entirely, instead replaced by soft snores.

They stayed there for a long time until eventually, Boba’s eyes were falling shut, too. He made sure their course was set, then gathered Din into his arms in the gentlest way he could manage, standing with his breath drawn in. The man wasn’t light. Din’s eyes blinked open sleepily as Boba settled them both into the bunk and they looked at each other, gazes held.

Din turned and snuggled in against Boba’s chest again, nuzzling his face into his collar, and Boba held him tight with fingers in his hair as they both drifted off.

**Author's Note:**

> [Discord](https://discord.gg/UwZuG6N)   
>  [Tumblr](https://coffeequill.tumblr.com/)   
>  [Twitter](https://twitter.com/coffee_quill)


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